After Afterall

5

The President is being released five days after he was shot. If I had my way, he'd be staying for two full weeks at least, but the decision makers have vetoed my request. The only upside is the President will have round-the-clock care at the White House and I'll be visiting every day to check on him. I can't deny that I'm excited to visit the White House. The only time I was there was for a tour at age seven.

The Secret Service is already packing the President's things when I arrive in the morning. The President still isn't able to move around easily, but his spirits are up which is half the battle. He's sitting up in bed wearing a fresh button-up and dark pants. Most patients leaving the hospital looking like shit, but the President can't.

He smiles at me as I walk into the room. "Doctor Grey. Are you here to give me a hard time about leaving early?"

"Why is that your first question? I haven't given you a hard time at all." The President and SSA Grant share a look. "Fine, I was tough about you not working, but see how much better you are in five days. You wouldn't be doing so well with me."

"Yes, I know that," he says in a tone which is much more serious than I'm used to.

I tuck his chart under my arm. "Are you ready to go home?"

He shakes his head a little. "Home is Maine. I'm moving into the White House today. It all feels very surreal."

"I hadn't thought of that. Have you been into the Oval Office yet?"

I notice anytime we discuss anything except for the President's health, the Secret Service pay more attention to us. Especially when we're discussing anything having to do with the presidency. I looked it up online and the number one job of the Secret Service is to keep the President safe and the second is to keep his secrets. If the President were to tell me anything he shouldn't, the Secret Service isn't allowed to tell anyone. I guess if the President said he was going to kill everyone, then the Secret Service could tell someone.

Either way, they pay more attention as soon as I mention the Oval Office.

"I was in there once when I met with President Obama about his nomination. But it was his office then. I don't know how it'll feel to be my office."

"It'll probably finally feel real." The President looks up at me. "After all the work you did, the campaigning and debates, the election, it'll probably feel finally real. I remember after I got my medical license, nothing felt real until I was standing in the hospital for the first day with the white coat on."

He smiles. "I guess you're right. I still feel like Derek Shepherd."

"You are," I shrug, "except people will now call you Mr. President instead."

"Eventually you will call me Derek," he says.

I shake my head. "No I won't, Mr. President."

There's a knock at the door and everyone looks across the room. All the SSA agents are here and Richard wouldn't knock. Or maybe he would. SSA Grant goes for the door. I realized a few days ago he's the President's head of security, so if anyone is going to diffuse a bomb, it'll be him. He cracks the door open. "Authorized personnel only," he tells whoever is on the other side.

"My name is Ellis Grey. I am the head of the general surgery department."

"Mom?" I ask and everyone looks at me. I walk towards the door. "That's my mom."

SSA Grant stands back and I open the door for my mother. She's been in London for two weeks and wasn't due to arrive home until tomorrow, but apparently she changed her plans. My mom has met two presidents before—Obama and Clinton. Apparently she's trying to collect them like baseball cards. "You're home early," I say.